Classic Poem

An-vnder mone so gret m er wayle
No fleschly hert ne mygt endeure,
As quen I blusched vpon þat ba[y]l[e],
So ferly þ er -of watg þe fasure.
I stod as stylle as dased quayle,
For ferly of þat freuch fygure,
þat felde I nawþ er reste ne t ra uayle,
So watg I ranyste wyth gly m me pure.
For I dar say w it h conciens sure,
Hade bodyly burne abiden þat bone,
þag alle clerkeg hy m hade i n cure,
His lyf wer loste an-vnder mone

R YGT as þe maynful mone con rys,
Er þe n ne þe day-glem dryue al dou n ,
So sodanly on a wonder wyse,
I watg war of a prosessyou n .
þis noble cite of ryche enpr[y]se
Watg sodanly ful, w it h -outen so m moun,
Of such y er gyneg i n þe same gyse
þat watg my blysful an-vnder crou n ;
& coronde wern alle of þe same fasou n ,
Depaynt i n perleg & wedeg qwyte;
I n vchoneg breste watg bou n den bou n
þe blysful perle w it h [gret] delyt

W it h gret delyt þay glod i n fere
On golden gateg þat glent as glasse;
Hu n dreth þowsandeg I wot þer were,
& alle in sute her liure wasse;
Tor to knaw þe gladdest chere.
þe Lombe byfore con proudly passe,
Wyth horneg seuen of red g[ol]de cler;
As praysed perleg his wede wasse.
Towarde þe throne þay trone a tras;
þag þay wern fele, no pres i n plyt;
Bot mylde as maydeneg seme at mas,
So drog þay forth w it h gret delyt.

Delyt þ a t [þ er ] hys come encroched,
To much hit were of for to melle;
þise alder-men, quen he aproched,
Grouely n g to his fete þay felle;
Legyou n es of au n geleg togeder noched
þer kesten ensens of swete smelle;
þen glory & gle watg nwe abroched;
Al songe to loue þat gay Juelle.
þe steuen mogt stryke þurg þe vrþe to helle,
þat þe V er tues of heuen of joye endyte;
To loue þe Lombe, his meyny in melle,
I-wysse I lagt a gret delyt.

Delit þe Lo m be for to deuise
W it h much meruayle in mynde went;
Best watg he, blyþest, & moste to pryse,
þat eu er I herde of speche spent
So worþly whyt wern wedeg hys[e],
His lokeg symple, hy m self so gent;
Bot a wou n de ful wyde & weete con wyse
An-ende hys hert, þurg hyde to-rente.
Of his quyte syde his blod out-sprent.
A-las! þogt I, who did þat spyt?
Ani breste for bale agt haf for-brent
Er he þer-to hade had delyt.

The Lombe delyt non lyste to wene;
þag he were hurt & wou n de hade,
I n his sembelau n t watg neu er sene,
So wern his glenteg gloryo us glade
I loked amo n g his meyny schene,
How þay wyth lyf wern laste & lade;
þe n sag I þer my lyttel quene,
þat I wende had standen by me i n sclade.
Lorde, much of mirþe watg þat ho made,
Amo n g her fereg þat watg so quyt!
þat sygt me gart to þenk to wade,
For luf-longy n g i n gret delyt.

D ELYT me drof i n yge & ere;
My maneg mynde to maddy n g malte;
Quen I seg my frely, I wolde be þere,
Bygonde þe water þag ho were walte
I þoge þat no þy n g mygt me dere
To fech me bur & take me halte;
& to start in þe strem schulde non me stere,
To swy m me þe remnau n t þag I þer swalte.
Bot of þat mu n t I watg bi-talt;
When I schulde start i n þe strem astraye,
Out of þat caste I watg by-calt;
Hit watg not at my Prynceg paye.

Hit payed hym not þat I so flonc
Ou er meruelo us mereg, so mad arayde,
Of raas þag I were rasch & ronk,
Get rapely þer-i n ne I watg restayed
For rygt as I sparred vn-to þe bonc,
þat brat[h]e out of my drem me brayde.
þen wakned I i n þat erber wlonk;
My hede vpon þat hylle watg layde,
þer-as my perle to grou n de strayd.
I raxled, & fel i n gret affray,
& syky n g to myself I sayd,
" Now al be to þat Prynceg paye "

Me payed ful ille to be out-fleme
So sodenly of þat fayre regiou n ,
Fro alle þo sygteg so quyke & queme.
A longey n g heuy me strok i n swone,
& rewfully þe n ne I con to reme: —
" O Perle, " q uo þ I, " of rych renou n ,
So watg hit me dere þ a t þ o u con deme
I n þys v er ay avysyou n !
If hit be ueray & soth sermou n ,
þat þ o u so st[r]ykeg i n garlande gay,
So wel is me i n þys doel-dou n gou n ,
þat þ o u art to þat Prynseg paye. "

To þat Prynceg paye hade I ay bente,
& gerned no more þen watg me g[y]uen,
& halden me þer in trwe entent,
As þe Perle me prayed þat watg so þryuen,
As helde drawen to Goddeg p re sent,
To mo of his mysterys I hade ben dryuen.
Bot ay wolde man of happe more hente
þen mogteÔÇá by rygt vpon hem clyuen.
þer-fore my ioye watg sone to-riuen,
& I kaste of kytheg þat lasteg aye.
Lorde, mad hit arn þat agayn þe stryuen,
Oþ er proferen þe ogt agayn þy paye!

To pay þe P r ince, oþ er sete sagte,
Hit is ful eþe to þe god Krystyin;
For I haf fou n den hym, boþe day & nagte,
A God, a Lorde, a Frende ful fyin.
Ou er þis hyul þis lote I lagte,
For pyty of my Perle enclyin;
& syþen to God I hit by-tagte,
in krysteg dere blessy n g & myn,
þat, in þe forme of bred & wyn,
þe preste v us scheweg vch a daye;
He gef v us to be his homly hyne,
Ande precio us perleg vnto his pay!
Amen. Amen.